I am PsychLocked
by EatingCrushedIce
Summary: Shawn and Gus are relaxing in the Psych office, when an angry Sherlock bursts in. A touch of (one-sided) Johnlock at the end. One-shot.


**Just a tiny idea that got stuck in my head.**

 **Disclaimer: If I owned the shows, I would not waste my time writing fanfiction. I would write episodes.**

Shawn Spencer was lying on the couch, playing a game on his phone and lazily bantering with his friend over this history of the potato chip when the bell to the Psych office chimed, and two men entered, one rather short and blonde, the other wearing a trenchcoat with a mess of black curls.

"Can I help you?" Shawn asked, getting off the couch.

"No you can't. We were just leaving." The shorter, blond man said quickly with a British accent. "Come on, Sherlock, let's go."

"Sherlock Holmes?" Gus got up from the desk. "Then you're John Watson! I love your blog."

John smiled, and opened his mouth to reply, but was cut off the the taller man, Sherlock.

"Even Americans read your blog? This is getting ridiculous, honestly."

"Did you really not know the Earth revolves around the sun?" Gus asked. Sherlock groaned.

"It does?" Shawn asked, sounding surprised.

"How do you not know that?" Gus asked, sounding a bit frustrated. "It's preschool stuff, Shawn."

"It's not like it's that important." Shawn tried.

"Elementary, Shawn."

At this point, John simply grinned, watching the two of them argue, and checked his phone. "Remind you of anyone, Sherlock?"

"So? We painted cats in elementary school. When was the last time you painted a cat?" Shawn continued.

"That is completely different!"

"Why?"

"It's the sun, Shawn!"

"Not that this recreation of a conversation I have previously taken part in isn't scintillating, but I have an important matter to discuss with you." Sherlock cut in.

"No he doesn't." John said, then turned to Sherlock. "No you don't."

"Yes I do!" Sherlock glared at Shawn. "Get rid of your sign."

"And what sign is that?"

"On your window! It says you're a consulting detective. You can't be a consulting detective, I'm the only one. I invented it."

"Actually, the sign says I'm a _psychic_ consulting detective. Which is a lot cooler than a plain, not-psychic consulting detective."

"You are not psychic; psychics are not real!"

"Oh, really?" Shawn grinned and quickly scanned the newcomers. He noticed the dark circles under their eyes, the slightly malnourished condition of Sherlock, and the ways they both angled themselves, as if to protect the other. He also recalled the phone John used earlier, a few comments Gus had made while reading the blog, mostly about John being an army doctor, and the two of them as 'flatmates.'

"You are both from London, on vacation. Just got here today, so still jet lagged. You" he pointed to Sherlock. "forget to eat at times, much to the annoyance of your ever-suffering roommate, and you" he turned to John, "are an ex-army doctor, and have an estranged brother that you rarely talk to, most likely due to his drinking."

John grinned. "Oh, you're _good_. But probably not psychic."

"Definitely not psychic." Sherlock put in, staring at Shawn. "I am curious, though. You could tell from our appearance that we were jet-lagged, that I don't eat quite as much I probably should, and from John's phone you could deduce the Harry/drinking thing, but how did you know he was an army doctor, and that we're flatmates? Obviously you don't read his blog, otherwise you would have known the whole earth-going-round-the-sun thing."

Shawn stood there, frozen.

"Uh, Shawn?" Gus waved his hand in front of Shawn's face. "Great. You broke him."

"It's not my fault. If he's going to pretend to be psychic, he shouldn't be so obvious about it."

"Gu-US!" Shawn shrieked. "The British guys are mean."

"What did I do?" John asked, offended.

"Anyway," Shawn continued. "The spirits told me everything. I didn't _deduce_ it off you. I mean," Shawn chuckled, "a guy would have to be insanely observant, to get all that from a few glances. I didn't even know the Lucky Charms mascot was re-animated until I finished the entire box."

"That was my cereal, Shawn!" Gus said.

"No, yours was the Cinnamon Toast Crunch."

"No, we shared, the Cinnamon Toast Crunch, I got the Lucky Charms, and you got the Honey-Nut Cheerios."

"That doesn't even sound like me."

"Yes, it does. You picked out the Cheerios because you said the mascot was-"

"Will you two STOP IT?" Sherlock shouted. "You" he glared at Shawn "are not psychic. However," he gave him a final once-over. "You are highly intelligent, as ridiculous as it sounds about someone who argues about cereal; rather that prove it, however, you choose to hide it behind sarcasm and ridiculous arguments, and probably pop-culture references. You have a strained relationship with your father, which has improved ever since he was shot, you rely on you friend for most financial needs, and most importantly, are _not psychic! Now take down that bloody sign!"_

Shawn looked shocked for a moment, then recovered. "No."

"Do it or I will tell the local police their go-to psychic is a fraud."

Shawn grinned and stepped up to Sherlock. "No. And you know why?" He whispered something in Sherlock's ear. "Now, unless you want that getting out, you will leave, and not tell anyone about me being not-psychic."

Sherlock glanced at John, then back to Shawn, almost approvingly. "It appears I underestimated you, Mr. Spencer. Only one other person has ever realized that. Perhaps one day we will meet again." With a flourish, the man swept the trenchcoat behind him and made to leave the building. "Come along, John. And Mr. Spencer?" He paused and half-turned. "My number and address are on my blog. Feel free to look me up if you are ever in England. Perhaps by then I'll know if I hate you or like you."

With that, he left, trailed by a very confused John.

"Shawn, what did you say the man?"

"I just pointed out a very obvious fact-that his is completely infatuated with the short blogger."

"Really? You just told him he had a crush on John? That made him leave?"

Shawn made his way to the kitchen.

"The man is obviously emotionally stunted, Gus. If he can't handle my sign, I figured he couldn't handle the possibility of me telling his friend. Some people just aren't as emotionally mature as an adult should be." With that, Shawn poured a bowl of Cinnamon Toast Crunch.

"Ooh, get me a bowl." Gus said, heading towards Shawn.

"Sorry, all out."

"I didn't get any, Shawn!"

"It's not my fault you wasted your cereal-eating opportunities."

"You not only ate my Lucky Charms, but the entire box of Cinnamon Toast Crunch."

"What's your point?"

"Give me that bowl, Shawn!" Gus lunged for the bowl, but Shawn snatched it up, and was promptly chased around the Psych office.

"That's my cereal!"

"It's shared cereal! You freely admitted it!"

"But you didn't share any of it! That is my bowl!"

*fade to black*


End file.
